Remember me, Laura?

Laura glanced about as if to see if there were better prospects—or an escape route. “OK, let’s go,” she said, in a “let’s get this over with” tone of voice. She walked ahead of me to the center of the dance floor then, determinedly, grimly almost, turned back to me. We stood facing each other uncertainly for a few static moments and then we sprang into action, rather like athletes when play begins. We danced to some Top 40 song from one of the major rock bands of the day. After the dance she took my hands in hers, holding them in front, and smiled. Her iridescent eyes seemed to signal a future together. “I’ll be right back,” she said.


When I was growing up in San Antonio, Texas, there was a place called Teen Canteen, just a storefront in a strip mall but for me a place of mythic proportions, a place where hopes and dreams for the future lived and died.

The people running it were probably the same kind of people who operated…

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